


Pumpkin Spice Tea

by renaissance (orphan_account)



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Drinking, Gen, Partying, and they do, he tells the mc to go die lmao, it's super toxic tho, slight asrian, this is an asra fic with slight julian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-08 00:00:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15918888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/renaissance
Summary: Want to see more of me?Follow my twitter: @angstfather





	1. Preface

Asra doesn’t look at you, and you don’t expect him to. The plague has come, nearly into your home, and he wants to leave. “Count Lucio has asked for my help specifically.” you gather, and sit at your workbench. Asra was your student. He should understand the importance of expanding your magic to help someone more than anyone. It was a practice you instilled early.

“Do you remember our first masquerade?” he cuts in, hands on his hips. “Because this next one will be the last. For you. For me. If you go and help.”

“We can always dance at home.” you offer, and he rolls his eyes.

“You’re unbearable. You’re so set about going. Don’t you love me?” Moments in your bed, pressed together emit through the room. He always projects when he’s scared.

“It doesn’t matter if I love you. And I do.” You add, upon seeing the hurt look on his face.

“The city needs me.”

“I fucking need you.” his bottom lip quivers, and he turns away.

“Asra-”

“I hope you fucking die in the plague. Maybe you’ll learn your lesson.” There’s a heavy silence and you’re left speechless. How could the man you’d loved for the last six years say something like that to you?

“Okay, Asra. If that’s how you feel.” You head upstairs to gather your things, him standing stone cold near your work bench. For a moment you pause in front of him, and take his hands. He looks almost hopeful, as if you’d decided to come with him. You press your tarot deck into his palms. “You are my heart, Arsa. ” You ghost a kiss to his forehead and it lingers as he leans into it. “But, I think it's time for us to part for a while. Goodbye.”

Those were the last words he spoke to you before your departure to the Lazert.

_I hope you die in the plague, Maybe you’ll learn your lesson_

God does he wish he died too.


	2. A good night

“Ilya, look at this.” you say excitedly. You essentially dance over to him. “Lucio, he’s not who he says he is!” The book is thrown in his direction. There is a portrait of a family. A woman, with hair pale as snow, and markings on her face. She looks like a storm, something to respect. Next to her is a man, with tailored brown hair, and facial hair. His face is not as hard as hers, and he has kind eyes. In the middle of them is a young man, blue eyes stark against his pale features. He smiles, and it stands wickedly. He is the perfect mix of the two. Their son, Montag. “I’m sure he’d just _love_ if we called him Monty.” You smirked, jumping up onto Julian’s desk and kicking his side gently with your foot, teasingly.

“I’m sure he’d cough blood in your face, dove.” Julian laughed, resting a palm on your knee. “But this is interesting. You think Lucio- or Montag is connected to the plague?”

You get up and pace about, clothes flowing. You looked graceful, angelic almost. Julian sucked in a breath. “I think that he definitely has something to do with it. He is the first to develop the plague, and he seems to be lasting quite a bit longer than everyone else who has developed it. I don’t think it has anything to do with the grace of our gods. The Magician has led me to believe he’s-” Julian cocked an eyebrow.

“The Magician?”

“In the realm of the arcana. He’s the overuler of magick. I consult him often.” you admit briefly. “The Magician thinks he may be dealing with the Devil.” Julian grabbed your hand, tugging you back to him.

“And if he is? What do we do about it?” You look into his eyes, and the first time in awhile you see adoration. He’s looking up to you, asking for your guidance. Your heart aches at the thought of Asra and your face falls.

“We have to kill Lucio.” you whisper against his forehead, closing your eyes and leaning into him. Ilya is your best friend. Your closest friend, knowing secrets you don’t even tell Asra. “Then the plague will leave, Ilya”

He breathes in heavily, eyes meeting yours, searching for some joking nature. “MC… That’s treason.”

“You don’t have to be involved.” You shake your head. “I promise. I’ll do it. Make it look like he died of the plague.” Julian sighs, brushing his lips over your forehead.

“I’m not letting you do it alone.”

“I won’t ask you to sacrifice anything for me.”

“It’s not anything I wouldn’t do for you. We’re in this together.” you nod, and close the book, removing yourself from him and placing it on the shelf. “MC?” you smile at him sadly.

“Yes, Ilya?”

“He’s lucky.”

“Who?”

“Asra, to have your heart. I’m not sure if he deserves it.” Your chest tightens at his words. “He left you, said those things.” You backed up a bit, hitting the work table in the library. “I don’t want to replace him. That’s not what I’m saying. I simply want you to know that you are amazing, wonderful and so magickal. Anyone would be happy to have you. Blessed to have you.” thick tears streamed down your face.

“Ilya.” he keeps your gaze.

“Yes?”

“You know I’m not going to survive this plague, right?” his voice catches in his throat. He knows. He knows what the Magician has told you. What Death has told you.

“I know.”

“I need you to take care of Asra.” Julian’s gaze falls from yours. “I need you to give him this.” You offer an aged envelope. “It’s the first and last letter I’ve written to him. Ones that were never delivered. They won’t be delivered in my lifetime.”  

“I won’t let you die.” You stop him, rushed with your words.

“Neither of us will see it coming. It won’t be something we can prevent. Trust me when I say I’ve accepted it. I said my goodbye to Asra. He didn’t take it well, as you know. Told me to go die.” you chuckle sadly under your breath. “ I want our goodbye to be happier. To celebrate our friendship. To celebrate life.” You offer a hand. “Let’s go to the pub tonight and dance on tables and sing to our heart’s content.”

“That’s not really-”

“C’mon, it’s one night. We discovered the cure. Let’s party, Doctor 069.” you sway your hips and walk him out of the room by his hand, laughing. “I promise this will be a night you’ll never forget.”

 

*~*~*~*~*

It was a night you two will never forget. “OH HE’S A JOLLY GOOD SAILOR OH HE’S A JOLLY GOOD SAILOR OHHHHHH HE’S A JOLLY GOOD SAILORRRRR.” you slosh your beer against the man with the peg leg next to you as Julian watches in amusement.

“Aye, little bird, wanna come sail away with me?” A dashing man in a long coat slinks an arm around your shoulder and your eyes light up with amusement.

“Oh, dear, where would we go?” you muse, leaning into him. He smells of sandalwood and vanilla. Like Asra.

But he’s not.

But you could pretend for a night.

The pirate’s eyes light up. “Anywhere, little bird.” Julian sips at his drink and keeps an eye on your body language in case he needs to step in. You seem to be faring well in the pretense of this man’s flirting. “I’ve seen all the sea has to offer. All the lands far and wide. Never have a seen anything as lovely as you.” His dark locks fall in his face, and his eyes remind you of violets. Of Belladonna, Asra’s favorite flower. You push those feelings down into your stomach and focus on his soft features, and amusement dancing on his plump lips.

“Wow, charming as well. I’m a witch, do you think you could handle a bit of spellcraft?” you hush, feeling the ale getting to you.

“I’d love a bit of spellcraft, little bird.” he leans in and you can taste the scotch on his breath. It’s a brief kiss, no more than a linger of the lips. He pulls back, excitement and lust dancing in his eyes.

“Come back in four years time, and I’ll sail anywhere with you.” you promise, whispering the address to your shop in his ear. “If you can wait that long.”

_Asra_

Your mind screams-

_Asra has your heart._

“Why not now?” he questions gently, still enveloped in your space.

“I’m on an adventure. An important one that requires the most lovely and talented people.”

“You must lead it then.” he presses a brief kiss to your forehead. “I’m Caspius. I will see you in four years to the day. Then we’ll sail the seas.” he leaves, and his crew follows. Julian is at your side in an instant.

“Are you and Asra split up?”

“I still love him. We just aren’t together right now. We won’t be again in this lifetime.”  you said gently, still feeling the tingle of that man’s lips on yours.

“Well. Pirates, huh?” he gives you a toothy grin and you shove him.

“Maybe if you were one, I’d give you a smooch too.” He takes the handkerchief from his pocket and ties it around his left eye. You kiss him briefly, but deeply.

“That’s the only one you get, Mr. Pirate.”

 

A good night.


	3. Infection

Lucio sits on the bed, staring at you with a blank expression. “So you know?” you nod, just barely. His eyes are tinged a sickly red, and he coughs into his hand. 

Blood. 

You want to help him but you’re frozen in place. “Yes, Prince Montag.” he sighs deeply and leans forward. “I’m the only one who knows.” you couldn’t bring Julian into this. One of the servants saw you taking notes about the Scourge of the South, this was your fate. Not his. 

“Never call me that again. Understand me?” you nod yet again. “Come here.” you begrudgingly inch closer and he grabs you by the collar. Blood staining your shirt. The blood soaked hand cups your cheek, and smears across your face, and between your lips. You cough, and retch. His infected blood was now in your system. “You’ll die soon.” 

The world was spiraling. You hadn’t anticipated this, that Lucio himself would be the one to infect you. You thought that it might’ve been a patient, an unsanitary surface. Not Lucio. “Anyone you tell will receive the same fate. Understood?” You nod with thick tears streaming down your face. You leave his room shortly after. 

 

You know you have anywhere between three days and a week after you start showing symptoms. The time of infection and when your eyes turned red were the most contractible period of time for others around you. 

The vomit left you like sludge and you gasped for air. The taste of his blood still on your tongue causes another wave of nausea. Another retch over the chamber pot and more sludge. With wet eyes you clean the vomit and blood from your lips and face and you lock your door. 

 

This is it for you. 

 

_ Julian- Don’t take this too hard _

 

_ Asra-  _

_ I’m sorry _


	4. error title not found- chapter does not exist

 

_ The smoke-  _

_ My skin-  _

_ ASRA  _

_ HELP PLEASE _

_ It hurts _

_ It hurts.  _

_ I’m sorry _

_ Im’m sorry i m not rea dy  _

_ P lea se  _

_ I, ne ed you _

_ As ra  _


	5. kiss of death, the first and last time.

You shuffle about with the other decaying citizens, eyes crimson and tears of a life lost. Yours fall the fastest, and the hardest. You chose to leave the castle, to not tell Julian. To die alone, in a sea of people crying and screaming. It was a terrible decision.

A head of white hair caught your attention. You wanted to shoot forward, turn the person around just to see if it was him, but you simply prayed it wasn’t.

Then you were on the Lazaret.

It stunk of death, and his kiss. The one thing he’d wanted to give you your whole life, with cold lips and breath like spearmint. The sandy banks called to you, bringing you to your knees. There he is, holding you up by your shoulders. “MC.” he smiles, and it’s taunt muscles pulled over a horse skull.

“Death.” you hush, giving him a sad smile. “It’s time, huh?” he nods, and embraces you, pulling you up to carry you. His hand meets at your back as his other hand supports your back. “Asra.” you say simply, and he presses his forehead against yours as he continues to walk, attempting to give you comfort.

“He will miss you the rest of his life.”

“He will live as long as we agreed?”

“Yes.” you breathe a sigh of relief. You’ve always known you would die young, barely cusping the age of nineteen. Knowing Asra will live a long fulfilling life was what made this okay. Your deal mark shines brightly against your lips. He flickers for a moment into a young man, dark hair pulled back into a bun, eyes red and blood falling from them like fresh tears. “Was it worth it?” he asks gently, brushing a few tears from your cheeks.

“Mhmm.” You acknowledge, touching your lips and imagining the kiss that brought forth this. The first time you kissed Death, it wasn’t you who was dying.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*

The larger boys made it a game on how much they could torment Asra before he fell unconscious. They would typically leave him on the bank of the river, bloody and struggling to breathe. Muriel would be there to pick him up and bring him home, caring for his wounds just as Asra cared for his.

Muriel wasn’t there today.

It rained, and the heaviness of it blocked out any noise that he made. It definitely helped helped accelerate the bleeding. His heavy body slumped against the side of the shop, his breath came in pants as he cried and struggled to breathe. Thirteen was too young to die, even you knew that. So, when you came out to make sure the rain wasn’t washing away your peonies, you found him slumped there, bleeding out and on the edge of consciousness.

“Asra?!” you envelope him, and he sighs calmly at the warmth. His whole body felt as if it were freezing. There you were, a beacon of life, of warmth. He would be happy and ready to go if he died in your arms.

You drag him inside and up the stairs onto the bed. Your aunt typically didn’t sleep here, but you did to watch over the garden.

The blood is slowing a bit, but not quite enough to keep him stable. Your lips meet his forehead and you apologize as you you rip his shirt open, hands proding the stab wound on his stomach. You go to work, cleaning and stitching, praying to the gods above that he would survive. On the fourth hour it wasn’t looking so good, he had become more pale and his heart rate was steadily dropping. His lips were crusted with blood. It was almost poetic that someone so beautiful would die so young. That’s typically how it went.

“He’s not going to make it.” his voice echoes through the shop. “You know this.”

“I won’t accept it, I’ll keep working.” you murmur desperately. “I love him.”

“You’re fourteen, you don’t know what love is.” he says, placing his hands on your shoulders. “Your mother had the same issue. Except she dealt with the Devil.” you wince, imagining the day your mother died and your father left. Your mother sacrificed herself to save your father from dying.  He went into hiding and her skin turned sickly, and she wasted away sitting in an old rocking chair.

“You loved her.” Death had. Your family lineage was what life composed of, your energy radiated it, and he basked in it. If he could eat it in for the rest of eternity, he would do anything. You know this, and so does he.

“She’s moved on to the other world.”

“You know what I want.”

“Shall I get the Devil then?” he seemed almost bored, as if this was something he expected. You shook your head and he raised an eyebrow.

“What is my death age?”

“Without interference?”

“Yes.”

“80. With the constant usage of magic.”

“That isn't enough.” you turn to him, watching him flicker between humanoid and the daunting visage of horse skull. "I cannot split my life in half and give him the remaining years. I'd-" His features brightened.

“You know my stipulations.” Death was easily excitable, almost like a puppy.

“My heart. You want my heart and devotion. To emit the opposite energy you do and coexist as your partner. You’ve wanted this for many generations.” the stories your mother and grandmother told you were proof enough.

“Yes.”

“Here are mine.” you hush. “I live for four more years. You switch our ages of death. But subtract the four from the end of mine when you give it to him. He will live until 76, and I will die at 18. My heart and my soul, all my power will be yours.” he laughs, a large booming laugh, and he spins you about the room.

“You won’t regret this.” you nod, looking to Asra.

“I won’t.”

Death places one hand over your chest, and the other over his stab wound. As he distributes your life to Asra you feel your vitality leaving you. Death detaches his hands and smiles at you, solidifying into his humanoid form as he cups your cheek and presses a quick kiss to your lips. It’s a peck, but it seals your fate.

Eighteen.

Four years.

He leaves in the form of a shadow, promising to watch over you. As he does, Asra jolts up, looking around the room frantically. He stills once he sees you. “MC? What happened? How am I healed?” Silent tears stream down your face as you wiggle your fingers.

“Magic. I’m glad you woke up.” he’s in your arms in an instant, hugging, and holding you. His hands clasp with yours and you cry together.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The incineration room is small and cramped as bodies pile in. It's hard to breathe, and Death holds close to you. 

When the flames start your skin burns and you scream and cry with everyone else. "I'm sorry!" your voice crackles with the fire as Death presses his lips to yours in a final kiss. 

Even then, you think of Asra. 

 


	6. a letter to ilya.

They both saw thousands of patients a day. It wasn’t uncommon for MC to disappear out of exhaustion. With what Julian knew he should have been more careful, kept a better eye on them. He wanted to save them, to be the one who cured it, for them.

With a glass of scotch held tightly in his hand he carried the beige envelope to his room. He knew they were gone when he received it, they wouldn’t have left it for him any other way. These were their last words to him. Their last goodbye.

 

**_Ilya,_ **

**_When we turned fifteen, we fell from that tree. With the wind knocked out of the both of us, you managed to calm yourself before me. You thought I was dying. Once I regained my breath I told you ‘Not now.” I suppose the time has come. Three years seem so long, but not long enough._ **

**_I know that you and Asra haven’t always gotten along. But, I need you to take care of him. He may seem strong and composed, but he’s terrified. He puts on that front so no one can hurt him. I’ll miss the both of you so much._ **

**_I need you to help him get through this. I don’t mean my death. I mean the plague, the hardships of life, and whatever emotional challenges the two of you will face._ **

**_I know I have put you through so much, Ilya. I’m so sorry._ **

**_When it comes to your time, I hope Death is merciful. I hope he takes you into oblivion gently. I hope he gives you peace where it’s due._ **

**_The woods of our youth are singing to me, begging me to come home._ **

**_I look forward to us to us being reunited._ **

 

**_-MC_ **

 

He finished the rest of the bottle of scotch, falling asleep on his desk with tears staining his cheeks.


End file.
